


Raven

by Loki_Silvertongue_laufeyson



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel, Thor - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:51:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3640818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Silvertongue_laufeyson/pseuds/Loki_Silvertongue_laufeyson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Comment your thoughts :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Comment your thoughts :)

The cell floor was hard beneath my legs as I knelt, shackled with magic dampeners. The cold, impersonal white marble seemed to laugh at my discomfort and threw off my vision. My tired eyes conjured patterns that raced and danced in front of me, obscuring my vision. The golden wall at the front of the cell should have been a thing of beauty, but the constant insidious buzz was menacing and promised misfortune. The stagnant air of the holding cells was torn with the wails of the unworthy and their desperate cries for redemption. But I was muzzled like a beast and chained like a dog, I could not plead with the guards and even if my mouth was free to spit and curse my pride would not allow for such a show of weakness. The Allfather himself sent a warrant for my arrest and the famed einherjers reacted like pet monkeys and dragged me from my place of reflection. A pair of gold armoured boots stride into my view and my eyes snap up to meet the generic face. He flinches almost imperceptibly which just fuels my rage further. Steeling himself he steps closer to me, two more follow him in not trusting my placating look. The chain that binds my wrists is left in place as he releases my tether to the ground. Taking advantage of the situation I rise to my feet, only to be doubled over by a punishing blow to the gut. It is followed by another and another, the guards leer as I lay curled up beneath their vicious beating, during a brief lull they moved my wrists in front of me and attached it to a collar and then up to the muzzle. There was blood in my throat but being muzzled left me no way to purge it. A sudden, harsh yank and my little funeral procession leave the god forsaken cell and travel up into the city. The hood on my long black cloak threw shadows onto the upper part of my face and people looking at me would only see a criminal of the worst kind. A criminal called specifically by Odin for crimes against the throne and their ruler. They need not even know the crimes I am charged on, hel I don't even know what crimes I have committed. They would see a strong jaw and slightly tanned skin, if they really looked they would even see a thin scar on the right side of that jaw. But the disapproving eyes would look no further than the hooded traitor led by an entourage and held with enchanted chains. The growing crowd roared with interest and the roiling sea of bodies grew and the noise washed over me and assaulted my sensitive ears. In a way, the hood lent a welcome alienation and protection from the Asguardian swine. The guards must have noticed this as the hood was yanked off roughly, the brightness and the sudden disappearance of my sanctuary caused me to stumble into the einherjer to my front. This provoked a harsh reaction and a fist was once more unleashed, it winded me and the crowd cheered. My pride swelled like a bruise and demand that I end this now, I could see how it work. A twist, would pull that guard off balance, the others would leap to defend him and leave themselves open. The knife in his boot would find the other in the neck. The final guy would be onto me by then and would make a fight of it, if the chains were round his neck however he would not be alive long. The only trouble with this plan was the magic dampeners and the crowd of warriors and beserkers. Even I was not desperate enough at this point to be that suicidal, the future could be a different story but for now I would walk with my head held high and try not to choke on the blood that left a tangy metallic taste in the back of my throat. As we reached the palace, the two guards opened the door and saluted the others after tossing a dirty look my way. I rolled my eyes and earned a cuff around the head. The throne room was just as magnificent as the first time I visited it and in fact the same moody one eyed freak still inhabited the throne, there was a shuffle of noise as the guards saluted him and he signalled for the muzzle to be removed. This was done, as ungently as possible but my poker face that was expressly designed to piss of politicians was firmly in place and from the look I received it was obviously working. The muzzle hung from my neck by the collar and the guards took up position holding onto the hundreds of chains that attached to me to the floor and them. Odin opened his mouth to speak and the second he did this I took the opportunity to spit a mouthful of bloody saliva at the feet of my nearest child minder, the guard yanked his chain and shifted in disgust. "Seriously Odin where do you get these shit heads from?" there was a grumble from the surrounding einherjers, they obviously did not appreciate the use of midgard slang. Well, show me a weakness and I will use it and they practically handed it to me on a silver platter, "they all look the same, they all stink and to be honest they all have the manners of some little slum born slag." Bingo, I hit the nail on the head and one guard launched himself at me, it did not take long before the entire surrounding area dissolved into a ruck. "ENOUGH" the bellowed order was enough for the riled guards to gain a modicum of control and retreat. Unfortunately, my chains had somewhat hindered me and therefore I had suffered the brunt of the damage that was dealt out, but it was pleasing to see some of the guards spitting blood and bearing cuts to the face. I plastered a smirk onto my face and turned to face an enraged Odin. "How dare you?" his voice cracked with raw power and a world shattering anger. "How dare I? HOW DARE YOU? YOU pulled me out of my peaceful travels. YOU fucked up your life NOT me! Grow a fucking spine and take responsibility you inbred cur." My anger was explosive and relentless in its release, the binding chains around my wrists burned red hot with the strain of containing my magic that was furiously clawing at the chance to let go and rip and tear, I could feel it behind the glass ceiling. It was trapped, it was like sitting inside as a storm ages on just the other side of the glass, a wind so strong that the vey house seems to shake with its avenging fury. But no magic came to my numb finger tips. No magic surrounding me in comforting warmth and no magic red misted the tyrant in front of me. Odin watched as this revelation sunk in with a knowing smile plastered across his deformed face. He stepped towards me and slapped me, a vicious backhand across the face that sent me sprawling. In the next second his magic held me fast in a kneeling position and although my magic rose like bile in the back of my throat it was impotent against these blasted shackles that bound it. He leaned his face in towards me ignoring the snarl that crossed my lips, running like a jagged scar across my face and spoke "You are all talk, there is nothing about you that is dangerous, your magic is gone and you will never feel the euphoria of casting a spell again." With that he straightened his back and walked away with a stately stride that made him seem like he was still young and powerful. "why am I here?" even to my ears I sounded pathetic and broken, my whispered words were not coloured with any emotion and all my former fight and anger had disappeared as quickly as an expelled breath. I needed to know, it was pretty obvious that I was to be subjected to life long incarceration underground and that thought was horrifying to my very instinct. Odin paused and looked round at me "you corrupted him, you ruined everything and you just attempted to attack me with magic as well as injuring my men. That counts as treason all plenty enough reason to leave you rotting in a cell miles under the floor. You. Will. Never. See. Daylight. Again." Just like that my world collapsed, a sudden implosion that started from my core and felled me to the floor. The room was silent except for a ringing and the whole room seemed to be vibrating. The muzzle was replaced as I continued to scream silently, a hood was drawn down over my eyes and I was dragged down the stairs into the dungeons of Asgard

My people were wanderers, a race as old as the realms and damn near immortal. We age slower than Asgardians, but quicker than elves. It takes almost two centuries before a wanderer is considered an adult, wanderers are nomadic, we are not beholden to any king or politics. We travel throughout the realms and walk the secret pathways of the Yggdrasil. There are not many of us left now, over time we had to adapt and become more involved in the petty wars between realms and this led to fatalities. I am five millennia old and during five thousand long years I have travelled the realms and the lands outside of them, but of all the nine realms I have become enchanted with the ever changing Midgard. The city of Asgard was something that I only visited recently for the second time, its stagnant culture and suffocating king had never appealed to me. I have always been a wandering spirit, I get restless staying in one place to long. I would rather be alone on some misty, windswept hill than stuck in a bustling city full of noise and smells and people. In the way of a true wanderer I am antisocial to the last, elves are tolerable as they also appreciate the beauty of silence and the things that can be communicated by a gesture or movement. Asgardians however are a different story, they are loud, raucous, intolerable and rude. Any space for listening to silence is filled with a coarse humour or a bellowed laugh. In small doses they can be alright, though they frequently make themselves candidates for having the piss ripped out of them, to give them some credit they can handle it quite well and Asgardian mages are very interesting people.

The thought of magic, caused a twinge of grief to go ripping through my already numb body. The hood over my head was unnecessarily cruel, as a wanderer I lived for the feel of wind and the fresh clear air. I would never again feel the sensuous ripple of a summer breeze through my long dark hair, never again hold a whistled conversation with an inquisitive bird. My world was shattering, I hung limp between the two guards as I struggled to come to terms with what was left of my long life. The guards were none to gently, they hit as many walls as possible and they jostled me ruthlessly. I remember every detail of that excruciating journey, even if I was half comatose the entire time. Finally the guards came to a smooth stop and appeared to be conversing with the other leering guard. Guards who hold the keys to the cells are the cruellest beings, their bitterness and short temper is reserved for the permanent prisoners. Permanent prisoners can be hurt, no one cares about the permanent prisoners. The fact that I am an extraordinarily powerful being will not spare me, I can take comfort in the thought that every thing I love has been stripped from me already, no physical pain will ever match the gut wrenching sorrow that rendered me immobile. Sure enough, two ugly prison guards are handed the chains and they stand waiting for the previous einherjers to exit through the doors. They slam shut with a clank and the lock clicks with finality, by this stage I am still barely on my feet, the guards immediately set about proving their superiority, I am beaten to the ground and then dragged by the vile cuffs into yet another golden fronted cell. The colour gold is supposed to be warm and happy, it is a comforting colour that speaks of prosperity but not here, here gold is pain, gold is evil. The pain bringers wear gold, the prison walls are gold, even the shackles are gold. Every thing is juxtaposed against is colours, the door to freedom is dark, the walls in the cells are white. Things are not innocent here, it has all been corrupted by the old fool who sits on a throne and has the audacity to call himself king. My pain and fear is strengthening into anger and pride, I am ashamed at my previous display of weakness and vow to never appear weak again. Oh they can beat me, no doubt they will, but they will not break me. I will never beg to them, I will never plead for release and they will get nothing of use from me. All the cells except two are uniform size; I occupy the second of these cells and the first stands empty. Along the corridor enslaved beasts yammer and yowl with vicious intent. The guards taunt the howling creatures and the cacophony of noise beats against my golden cell before reaching my ears slightly distorted. It was like listening to sound underwater, every syllable seemed slow and drawn out with a slight musical quality to it. My cell was made up of one solid wall, with what appeared to be a bathroom behind it, and three golden walls. The golden wall at the front stretched the entire length of the cell, but the walls at the side stretched along a quarter of the cell before the golden glow started. This means that there is little or no privacy for the inmate, that alone can reduce people to a babbling mess. Along one of the side walls lies a thin bunk for sleeping and next to it there is a shelf. Other than that there is nothing of note in the cell, for lack of a better explanation, a couch lies sort of central and there is a sparsely stocked bookshelf on the other wall. This is the cell in which I will spend the rest of my life, the guards had deposited me face down just inside the cage and left with a farewell kick to the abdomen. I heal fast so all these injuries will be gone by morning, but the more injuries I have and the lower my bodily reserves then the longer I will take to heal.


	2. Chapter 2

Its the screams of the guy in the cell opposite me that disturbs my meditation, the guards are gathering outside his door and attempting to remove him. From what I can see, he is an Asgardian charged with petty theft within the palace it self. I don't need to open my eyes to know when the guards have entered his cell, the desperate pleas for help rise in pitch as his voice moves up two octaves. It is grating on my nerves, his pitiful whining is enough to turn anyone's stomach. I open my eyes and travel to the front of the cell with lithe graceful movements, I know he sees me as he begins yelling for me to help him and wont I please just do something? "Hey, quit whining. Some of us are trying to sleep here you fool." Its not what he wants to hear from me but serves him right for being such a coward, if he doesn't have the balls to take it like a man then why should I risk my neck for him. What could I have done anyway? So far these apes that guard us prisoners have had no reaction from me at all since the first day. "There was once a time when you would have helped any one who asked you" A familiar voice spoke out gently from behind me, I tensed slightly as a reaction to her sudden appearance before turning around to see Frigga standing there in my cell. "That time is long since past" Frigga looked radiant as usual in her royal blue dress, but her ageless face was sad as she smiled gently and shook her head. "You have hardened your heart since last we spoke." I know that she is worried for me, Frigga and I have a history that goes back thousands of years, she taught me some of the beautiful subtleties that can be explored with magic and in return I took her on one of my journeys to teach her a few of yggdrasil's staggering mysteries. Right now though there is not a lot to be said "I have hardened my heart since my last offer of help was so rudely rejected." I paused for a second to catch a breath, determined that my voice would not give out. "The thing that I love most about what I do was the people I meet. But every day I lose more faith in where the races on the tree are heading. I made a difference, I offered guidance to those who lost their way and to those who just follow where they are pointed. But no more. The half blind fool has made sure of that" One of the things I always admired about Frigga was her ability to remain unruffled and calm even when the world is going to shit around her, her beautiful face darkened at my remark but she hid it quickly "Odin wants information from you about races outside of the nine realms. I came to ask you not to make this more difficult for yourself." Her voice was soft with sadness, my voice was the complete opposite "You concern is flattering my dear queen but quite honestly I don't see how this could be more difficult for me." Every word was like a bullet fired from a gun. "I have lost everything I love, my magic is gone and I am trapped in a tiny box waiting to be tortured. So why don't you go back to your privileged life up in the free world and leave us who have been damned in hel. " My rage cracked like a whip, it flowed like the wind in a storm. Frigga's face creased briefly and she stepped towards me with worry etched onto her face, for a second she looked old and grieved "I never wanted this to happen" Her voice seemed to plea for forgiveness, her pity was what finally broke me, I was shattering all over again and so I threw up my walls and hardened my heart "Well it happened. Now get out of my cell" I needed time to digest the new information, if Odin wants knowledge then he went about it the wrong way. There is no way he will be getting anything of worth from me, my endurance is that of the endless stars, my strength is that of the tree on which we live and my pride is born from the sons of gods. He will not break me with his ruthless einherjers, he will not break me as he breaks my body and he will not break me because he is no more noble or deserving than a common hayseed and therefore he does not know how to break a race older Asgard itself.  
The next day it would begin, I was waiting for them at the front of my cell. The man from yesterday is back there watching eagerly for my demise. But he did not dare to meet my eyes, he stared at my hands as I offered them to be roughly shackled once more and as I was dragged unceremoniously down the long corridor I could feel his eyes and the eyes of every prisoner burning into my back. The prison is constantly filled with noise but as my lonely procession passed through the dungeons a silence fell. It was loaded with vicious intent, every creature was cowed by the glares I shot at any who dared to look at my face, the tension was rising and the guards felt it to. As a wanderer many of these creatures would know what I am, for them I was an intruder in their sanctum of chaos. The shock of seeing me was enough to humble even the proudest among them as I appeared to be submitting to the guards. All of the inmates were stood as close to the golden curtains as possible in order to get a look. As the fifth guard bent to unlock the door I struck, the guard on my left was pulled off balance as I lunged backwards I managed to get my chains free and from then it was easy going. I cut through their ranks like a knife cuts though butter, a guard dropped his knife and then there was no stopping me. I stabbed the first guy I came to in the throat, his voice cut off into a gurgle and then a high pitched whistle, the cells came alive again and the air was filled with whoops and hollers it built into an atmosphere that was not unlike the time I dressed as a man and fought as a gladiator on midgard. The memory brings a smile to my face and with a twisted grimace I spin and slash, each graceful movement has a purpose there is no energy wasted. Before long I am surrounded by the corpses of my previous guard. My lip is split and blood runs into my eye from a cut on my forehead but other than that I am unscathed, the guard never finished unlocking the door but the key is there so it doesn't take long. I hold a long bladed sword with both my hands as I cautiously travel up the stairs, the din from behind me grows quieter and I finally begin to feel the movement of cold air across my face. The corridor through which I stalk is plain apart from a few tapestries depicting Thor and other warriors in battle, the dedication of the asgardians to their warriors never ceases to amaze me. The sorcerers and mages are given no credit, they are even shunned for not fighting with brawn and muscle. The prison bell begins to ring out loudly, signalling my escape and forcing me to make a quick decision. With magic not even the wards preventing teleportation would stop me from leaving but without it I stand out like a sore thumb. The shouting of the palace guards clamours in my ears and in an almost blind panic I bolt for the light. I run straight into a patrol and they quickly subdue me with what appears to be some sort of poison that is spread onto their weapons. I wake some three days later with a pounding head and an aching body, I feel like that time I fought a berserker warrior and got thrown off several roofs. I am not in my cell though, I am hung from my wrists in the centre of a small dark room with a floor that slopes gently towards a drain that is directly underneath me. From what I can tell I am alone, there must have been someone waiting to see when I woke up because the door opens and six people enter, Odin himself follows them in. "Oh so the queen bee himself came to see me, it must be a special day. I do apologise for not offering you a drink." A fist was sunk deep into my stomach and I tried to curl up instinctively to protect my bruised abdomen. "You can laugh all you want but you will give me the information I want. Once you have divulged your secrets you can leave" His face was impassive as he stood surrounded by his apes attempting to stare me out. "I don't believe for one second that you meant any of what you just said. I don't care what you want or why you want it, you are not having it." He stepped closer to me so we were practically nose to nose and I could smell his rotten breath. "I have it on good authority that you know where the casket of ancient winters is." I should have known that he would lie to Frigga about his true purpose, of course Odin would be fixated on finding yet another old, powerful relic. "So before they begin would you like to tell me its location?" a crocodile's smile spread across his deformed face, it was meant to encourage me to talk to him but it just set me against him even more. "I don't know where it is." I morphed my face into a patronising smile and stared him out until he turned his back and left. Only two einherjers remained and they spent no time at all laying into me with iron tipped whips, the whips had runes carved into them to increase the damage and slow the healing of injuries caused. Each blow felt like a red hot wire being dragged through my skin, each lash drew blood which ran down my back and dripped off my feet onto the floor below me. After an age they paused and asked for the casket, I spat in their face and they lay there whips down. Before long it was easy to see that the two warriors were getting bored with my lack of reaction, between them they had not even achieved a single noise from me. A third guard entered with a tray of food for the two men and took in my meat slab of a back with a whistle through his teeth. "Has she said anything?" the original guards just grunted and shook their heads disappointedly, "send the mage down will you?" the departing guard nodded and with a last glance at me left. Before long a young asgardian possibly about six centuries old entered the room and began fussing around me. "Is she not talking? Hmmmmmm, well we will see about that. Subtle methods boys, subtle methods." He was odd, twitchy and the feel of his magic put me on edge, it felt wrong and filled with hateful sadism towards anything other than himself. He began to mutter to himself in an old language whilst ignoring the glares from the two chastised guards, he cast a spell to increase the pain of any injury tenfold. His magic was singing and rejoicing at the pain it was causing, he moved to the table and imbued the instruments as well before tipping his head and leaving. A guard stood in front of me holding a red hot knife which he placed against my stomach, the pain was blinding and my vision flashed white, the smell of burning flesh filled the room and my mouth was open in a silent scream, my head was tipped back and every tendon in my body was stiff along the surface of my skin. He continued to cut in smooth, fluid lines across my abdomen and rib cage. Both guards watched me writhe with gleeful expressions on their ugly faces. Eventually I passed out and woke up in my own cell. My clothes were torn to shreds and only just afforded me some modesty, my throat was burning with a vicious thirst that too over my whole body. I tried to sit up but my back cracked and fresh blood began to run down my abused body, a small gasp escaped my mouth and I staggered across to the jug stood on a table across from me. Even drinking hurts and I glance down to see the ugly web of cuts that span my stomach, they stand out as angry red raised lines across a background of purple and black bruised skin. The water tastes funny but I only notice this after gulping at least half of it, the poison leaves me a shaking semi-conscious mess on the floor. The tremors running through me pull the already abused flesh even further apart and leaves me writhing in agony on the floor, this particular type of poison affects the pain receptors in the brain and make them think that you are in a ridiculous amount of pain even though you are not feeling anything real. The world is fuzzy as I suffer wave after wave of pain, my vision has closed down so much that I can only see a tiny section of the white ceiling far above my contorting body. When it is finally over I just sleep where I lay, the impact of a boot into my stomach is what wakes me and as my eyes open I throw up onto the floor next to my head. The guards drag my limp body like a carcass out of the cell and back towards the stone chamber. My head hangs low but with effort I prop it up and keep it held high all the way to the chamber. This cycle continues on for weeks, then months and finally years. Each long day that passes wears down a little of my pride, it takes months for me to stop fighting the guards whenever I had a chance and after a year they get the first scream, once I started screaming I couldn't stop but they have not succeeded in getting any information or making me beg for mercy. There is this constant cycle of starvation and when the food and water finally appears it is poisoned or drugged in someway, any attempts to avoid the food resulted in a torturous force feeding. One day I was dragged out of my cell and hosed down with brutally cold water before being shoved a clean tunic and trousers, I changed gingerly as by this stage the majority of my body is one big scab. My hands are chained in front of me and then Odin walks in, "I know you know so why wont you spill the beans? Who are you protecting?" Oh if only he knew the secret that I was holding, the person in possession of the casket was not someone I trusted but I did know them and mentor them in the past. Last I heard of him was that he had fallen from the bridge into the abyss between the branches of the yggdrasil. It was more than likely thought that he was dead by the Asgardians, but Loki is a fighter so it would not surprise me if he is holed up somewhere plotting his 'revenge'. I just spat at Odin's feet and laughed as he walked away. About a year after my last meeting with Odin, I had begun to leak small pieces of information to the guards. It was all useless and would lead them in the wrong direction but it gave me some satisfaction to watch them claw at the information like drowning men. The first time I did this the torture abated for a while because they had to give thought to my new line of enquiry but it didn't last long before the guards once again dragged me out of the cell. By now even the other prisoners have a sort of grudging respect for my lack of response to the guards. I sometimes curse the pride that runs through my veins, only pride allows me to continue to hold my secrets. Without that wretched pride I wold have divulged long ago and either be free or rotting peacefully in a cell without pain, either option is appealing but I cannot bring myself to give the leering guards that victory. It was about five long years after my incarceration when there began to be a buzz of news among the guards, Loki had made a reappearance on Midgard in pursuit of the Tesseract. This news was only partially pleasing to hear, it gave me a brief lull in the endless questioning as everyone was preoccupied but his plan sounded rash and desperate. His fall must have landed him in the midst of a different race of creatures that were not as civilised as the Asgardians. Sure enough, Thor was dispatched to Midgard to bring his 'brother' home, the very thought of this made me laugh. Thor was a dumb oaf, he never had the bright ideas and was more likely to smash like a beast with his hammer than to employ diplomacy. It had always been the way of the two, Loki would be left to think their way out of trouble whilst Thor stood and threatened with his hammer. I was always amazed at his way of manipulating people into doing things off their own volition. That day I was pulled from my cell and dragged along the corridor, my matted hair lay long down my back and my clothes were stiff with blood and dust, my face looked old and tired with lines dug deep into my face from the constant strain of screaming. This time I was away for days of non stop torture, they had upped their game and I was getting close to my limit. Each time they did this a tiny part of me crumbled, I was clinging desperately to the edge of my sanity with no one to pull me back.


End file.
